


filled with silver light and shadow

by renjutori



Series: we are only dust and fragile clay [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Memories, Nightmares, Reincarnation, almost everything I write turns into angst eventually, and that she needs new curtains, but we don't talk about that, except that one tsukiyama/yoshimura story, in which annie dreams and wakes to find that she isn't sure of anything anymore, it's not, the curtains are very important, whoops I made this sound like a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjutori/pseuds/renjutori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie Leonhardt gazes at the ring and wonders if she is still dreaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	filled with silver light and shadow

**Author's Note:**

> this was sitting in my drafts pile and I figured it deserved some attention, so here it is
> 
> side note: I totally thought I would only spend a little time on this, and that it would end up as less than 100 words, but obviously that didn't really happen...
> 
> I'm on tumblr as merrykirishimas so follow me if you want huehuehue (I mostly post tokyo ghoul though)
> 
> edit: Hi so this was written a loonggg time ago and I am currently rewriting it because parts of it are just awful ahaha so keep an eye out...

_She is eleven._

_She is sitting at a table, tracing the patterns in its wooden surface with her fingertips._

_“Annie!” a man barks, “Pay attention.”_

_She is bored. She does not want to pay attention._

_There are faces in the wooden knots, and birds, and clouds. There are villages and walls and forests, too, and she wonders what it would be like to disappear into them._

_Her nails scrape the table. She does not care._

_A hand grips her wrist firmly. “Annie, look at me.”_

_She doesn’t really want to._

_(Of course, she does anyway.)_

_He presents her with his open palm. There is a ring inside it, metallic and drab. It glints dully in the light, and she eyes it cautiously._

_“Take it.”_

_She gingerly grasps the piece of jewelry and studies it intently, flicking open the hidden blade for good measure. It feels heavy in her hands, almost ominous. She wishes he would take it back._

_“Do you understand,” he asks sternly, “What you must do?”_

_She doesn’t–not really, anyway, but she nods in affirmation all the same._

_“With words.”_

_She is tracing the table again, pretending the gouges are rivers far away, and that her fingers are the fish swimming through them._

_“Answer me!”_

_She remains mute._

_The man glares; she stiffens. He grabs her chin sharply. “Do you understand?”_

_His breath is hot on her face._

_She glances at him; her eyes are wide. “I understand.”_

_She doesn’t. She is a liar._

_Her father’s lips curve into a smile, and then–_

 

* * *

 

Annie Leonhardt wakes with clammy skin and a hammering heart. It is three am.

Unceremoniously, she kicks off her blankets. The floor is cool underneath her bare feet, and the moon shines obnoxiously through her window.

She reminds herself to get thicker curtains.

In exactly five small paces she is able to cross the room to reach her dresser. There, she rummages through the tiny jewelry box she keeps tucked inside.

After several mishaps with the sharp edges of multiple earrings, her hand finds the cool, round edge of what she is looking for.

There it is; the ring sits in her palm, as plain and unassuming as it was in her dream. Her fingertips trace its surface, almost desperately.

She finds nothing but smooth, unblemished metal. And yet…

There is an uneasy sensation in her gut, a feeling that settles like lead and refuses to go away.

(Is it sadness?

Guilt?)

She’s searching for a word she knows she won’t find.

She’s not sure she cares.

(She’s not sure she cares about much of anything anymore.)

It’s late. She’s tired.

Like clockwork, the ring is returned to the box, the box to the drawer, and she returns to bed.

Her covers are left where she threw them, caressing the floor in a sordid embrace. She doesn’t have the energy to retrieve them, and the room is unbearably hot right now, anyway.

Annie Leonhardt falls asleep again, and this time, she does not dream.

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> So... this has been in the works for a while (and by a while, I mean I first planned this when I was actually active in the SnK fandom). I finally mustered up the motivation to finish writing it, and maybe in the summer I'll find more motivation to continue the series (which, by the way, is a compilation of drabbles and one/twoshots revolving around the 104th's reincarnation and memories). As always, thanks for reading!


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